


15 Years

by loveiscosmicsin



Category: Final Fantasy 15, Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Established Relationship, IgNoct, M/M, Waiting, drabble request from tumblr, freewrite - Freeform, non-canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-02 23:44:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8688214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveiscosmicsin/pseuds/loveiscosmicsin
Summary: From my tumblr, a request from valyrianshadow: Sad/Happy fic time. Noct is in crystal sleep and Ignis is literally separated from him and every day they hope he wakes up. But this goes on for years. Ignis wonders if Noct will feel the same after he wakes up. It's v. sad. Happy ending though :)





	

Now with amazing[ fanart ](http://letshareapapou.tumblr.com/post/151218788065/inktober-day-1-based-on-loveiscosmicsin-crystal)I gotta brag about. Thank you, [@letshareapapou](https://tmblr.co/mJtqPABEbyEt8HIpAPA9gAg) <3

Fifteen years he spent waiting.

Fifteen years he prayed to deities all over the land, old and new, that one of them would grant his wish.

Fifteen years his voice went hoarse begging, bargaining, and cursing, only for his pleas to fall upon deaf ears.

Fifteen years his sight began to fold and struggled to fixate on a single image alone like his life depended on it.

Fifteen years he coveted his loved one within his heart.

Fifteen years slipped through his fingers like fine sand, the coarse minerals grated his calloused flesh — a reminder that time could be measured, but never be reclaimed when it was gone.

Fifteen years with his lamentations and frustrations pour off his body with a single glance.

Each and every time.

Love was an irrational emotion and even with all the reasoning in the world and given experiences, Ignis Scientia’s heart simply cannot let go.

Noctis Lucis Caelum wasn’t dead. The crystal wasn’t a coffin, not manmade or one that could be purchased, the one who subjected to a fate possessed knowledge of it.

Gladiolus had attempted to chip away at the prison; even with his might the shards regenerated and fortified itself. Prompto had shot at it and the bullets ricochetted. And Ignis… the advisor found himself on his knees as he watched his lover be engulfed into a permanent slumber.

The king and Hero of Light left them without any sign as to why. Silence befell the three men and Ignis’ heart wretched at the sight of the ghost of Noctis’ last laugh upon his face.

Ignis refused himself to mourn but he also refused to grant himself reprieve from his suffering. If he allowed himself reprieve then the spaces of missing him would be far and in-between. Should he encounter a memory after not thinking of Noctis in some time, the guilt would stab his heart greater than any sword wound. It would be too long since he missed the man last.

And Noctis was always in his thoughts. He kept Noctis’ name on the tip of his tongue so he would keep him as close as possible, much like a forbidden word or a star-crossed lover.

Stars dazzling the night sky, even the dusted sugar on those Tenebraean pastries Ignis baked for Noctis, were more tangible than the love he could allow himself to feel.

“Wake up…” Ignis croaked, having lost count of how many times he said that today. “Open your eyes, Noct.”

How long does he intend on slumbering? To keep Ignis waiting?

“Do you know… I can’t do this without you?”

Would these long fifteen years span on to sixteen? And how many years after that? Would Ignis find himself in his deathbed the moment Noctis woke up?

A man could lose his sanity under these circumstances. Perhaps it was why Ignis chose to speak to Noctis. It didn’t matter that he would not hear any responses, Ignis envisioned what he would say back, but he felt that this was something he had to do.

The advisor laid his palms upon the crystal prison, cool to the touch yet he held red-hot and unreserved fury towards it, a fantastic phenomenon had been occurring.

Just as Ignis reflected on his own aged features upon the crystal’s surface, Noctis had also aged as well. The king’s pallid complexion, the defined bristles above his lip and across his jaw. Yes, Noctis was aging, he would be closing in to his forties, but he was beautiful all the same.

The advisor’s fingers curled back into fists. How he longed to run his fingers through the long inky tresses angelically framing his face. How he longed to kiss the sculpted lips of his love once more. How he longed to have his king hold him in his deep cobalt eyes and never let go. All his desires limited because of the barrier that separates them.

“I’ll be back soon, Noct.” He withdrew from the crystal, finding the dose of determination he needed that day.

When Ignis left his side again at the end of the day, he wondered if, when, Noctis should wake up if he would remember him. Was it absurd of the advisor to persist carrying this torch that was his heart for this long?

Ignis’ sight encountered a premature decline in his vision, he had to see to Noctis wake. The advisor’s feelings on the matter of reciprocation were so minuscule in comparison.

A miracle happened.

Ignis witnessed it with his own two eyes.

The king awakened from his slumber.

The advisor held him in his arms as Noctis collapsed. Restraints and his composure ebbed away as he wound himself around the younger man. He stifled his sob in the curve of the king’s neck, muttering multiple gratitudes to the divine and to Noctis for coming back. The other man was stiff in his arms.

Ignis pulled back, realizing that Noctis didn’t return the embrace. He had forgotten their love, forgotten him. “My apologies, Highness… I’ve touched you without your permission.”

Before the advisor could remove entirely himself, Noctis cupped his cheek. “Iggy, you sure don’t give it a rest, do ya? Visiting me every day? Can’t get enough of me or something?”

“You…” Ignis began, stunned. The king’s voice was deeper than he remembered.

“You who?” Noctis replied in a sort of tired but playful tone eluding to a knock-knock joke.

Ignis didn’t get it obviously. “You remember me.”

“I’m not supposed to?” The king’s hand found the back of the advisor’s neck, his fingers caressing the flesh. “Not happening, Specs.” He lifted his chin and his soft lips touched the advisor’s.

Fifteen years was what it took to reunite them again.


End file.
